Heroes
by Live.Love.Twix27
Summary: "They call him a hero but the guilt's eating him alive." :: Darker-AU of SON :: "His memories are all gone and he's so confused and everything is blurry and wrong." :: Percy!centric, rated for language and themes


**A/N: Sigh. I really hate myself right now. I know I should be updating, but I have a horrible diesease: Writer's Block Syndrome. I was diagnosed by indigo colored rain. I outlined the entire plot for 'Again' during this bout of illness, so once I get my spark back it'll be smooth sailing. *rubs hands together evilly* Wow, do I have a lot in store for Percy and Annabeth. (Especially Percy!) Mwahaha! **

**So this is a darker, more mature (ish) version of SON. **I had t****his idea in my head; but while I was writing it, it went in an entirely different direction. It's pretty long, so tell me if you think I should separate it into two parts.** **

**It's also a different style - I used as little dialogue as possible. So let's see.**

**UN-BETA'D!**

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><p><em>~ I'm sick of looking for those heroes in the sky <em>

_To teach us how to fly ~_

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><p>The Roman Camp is darker than anything he's ever seen. It's all toughness and rough edges and work, work, work. The kids who can't keep up simply collapse, giving in. They usually never get back up.<p>

He meets a couple demigods who look like they've got it worse than him. Dakota, who's evidently hooked on red Kool-Aid (or wine, he can't tell); Frank, who's stronger than he looks; and Hazel, who punched him as way of introduction when he tried to pick up a piece of gold she had dropped from her long, flowing dress.

His days are filled with training, sweating, and more training, but somehow he finds time to hurt. He doesn't even know his last name.

...

The leader of the camp is as tough as nails, barking orders with her metal dogs at her heals. So he's surprised when one night she knocks on his door and kisses him desperately; her lips conveying hopelessness and pain. She murmurs sweet nothings, and her kisses can only be described as passionate. (But not really.)

It's only a matter of seconds before he's pressed her up against the wall, flicked the switch, and ripped off that ugly purple t-shirt. His excuse is stupid, but it's all he can think of. He needs to _forget_. (More.)

When he wakes up the next morning in a tangle of dark hair and (surprisingly) soft skin, though, he feels _oh so guilty_. But for what, he doesn't know.

His memories are all gone and he's so confused and everything is blurry and wrong. He misses someone but has no idea who she is. He knows he betrayed her; and it's not anyone's fault but his own.

He desperately wants to remember, but there's something in his sub-consciousness that tells him there are memories that are better forgotten. In his dreams, there's a man screaming down at him, beer bottles shattering against the decaying walls.

...

They set out on a doomed quest and Hazel dies somewhere in Alaska. It's all his gods' damn fault, Frank says. He doesn't answer because he knows it's true and arguing would really only make it worse.

His memories don't come back like they're supposed to and Frank just barely pulls him out of the mud. He kind of wishes he hadn't.

They finish the quest half-heartedly and everyone shoots him daggers. Arion galloped away the moment Hazel took her last, labored breath, so they stumble their way to the nearest cargo ship and stowaway. The days and nights on that ship seem like years, and no matter how many miles they travel, the sobbing follows him everywhere.

They arrive to see Camp Jupiter in shambles. Many had died during the invasion he and Frank had failed to show up for. Frank glares at him and he's reminded endlessly that it's his fault. Reyna looks disappointed and he knows he shouldn't; but he feels like he let her down. She looks at him funny during the whole meeting, and he can't help but feel uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze. She already _knows _everything that's under there so there's really no need to stare.

He almost tells her but Octavian's in the room. He probably already knows though; revealing secrets meant for no one in the stuffing of a dismembered bear.

...

Dozens more die in the battle against Polybotes and he can't help but feel he could have prevented all of it. The giant finally dies, but he can't even smile.

They call him a hero but the guilt's eating him alive.

Reyna asks him to be praetor and he doesn't know what to say. Because he knows the price.

The remaining demigods cheer him on but he can see the grimaces behind their wide, wide smiles. He accepts anyway.

...

Two days later the ship comes and there's people on it he should know but he doesn't. Heartbroken stances and empty glares and there are_ too many faces_. A blonde girl marches right up to him and punches him square in the jaw.

He rocks back but doesn't fall as she stares up at him with _gray_gray eyes filled with hope. All he can do is stare back, because honestly, what is it with strangers punching him lately? Then her face falls and she crumples to the ground. A girl with electric eyes and dark, spiky hair pulls her to her feet, all the while spitting profanities in the general direction of his shocked face.

He's never felt so lost.

Later that night he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling above him. No stars. He doesn't understand why this all has to happen to himand what awfully fucked up life he must have had to end up like _this_.

The girl who had punched him visits every day but he always comes up blank and she always leaves crying. For some reason, it hurts to see her so weak.

Lately he's been feeling _nothing _and it's scaring the crap out of him. Lately, he's been watching the dismal world through barely open eyes and it's killing him.

…

The sun is too bright, Camp Jupiter too peaceful to be real. The girl who cries - Annabeth, as she had informed him - sits beside him. The wind whips her corn silk hair, sweeping it in front of her eyes. He notices the dark circles underneath them.

She turns to him, her face betraying so much earnest, open pain it shocks him. He kind of likes that about her. She had told him how _he _had once been like that; an open book, but he barely believed her. She also had said he used to laugh a lot, so.

They sit there in the sun and she talks to him. She tells him stories, stories about him and how damn brave he was. He's honestly tired of hearing about that, but he'll listen just to hear her voice. She's the closest thing he has to normal, and gods, he'll take it. It's a different way to forget.

She tells him tales of their adventures together, glossing over rough parts, stuttering through the awkward ones, and highlighting her favorites. He just closes his eyes and listens.

...

One especially warm afternoon, they're sitting under the willow tree and she's weaving the words - the memories only he doesn't remember - together again.

He sits there, head tilted back, and listens as his past-self storms Mount Olympus and battles an old friend. His breath just about catches when past-him is given a choice, having to remind himself that it worked out in the end. He's here, after all, for better or for worse.

They're just nearing the end of the tale, he can tell; when her voice rises an octave in excitement. She tells him about the victory party, and how it was his birthday. She describes the blue cake and he can almost taste it.

His head is still back, eyes closed; but he can feel her gaze on him. "I licked the fork, shoved you and laughed. You did too, Percy. You should do that more often, you know?" he can still feel her eyes, can feel how close she is. He doesn't say anything. "So I looked you straight in those green eyes of yours, and I... Well, I did this."

The tension between them rises, and he can feel it. His eyes flutter open just in time for her lips to meet his.

...

It sounds cheesy. She doesn't belong in his crazy, messed-up life story. Unless she does. She does.

…

And in that little handful of time that blends effortlessly with every other moment he's lived, he feels perfect.

...

They leave for Greece the next week, and it's all too sickeningly familiar. Foreboding sense of danger? Check. Western Civilization resting on their shoulders? Check. Evil, impossible force that must be defeated? Check. Doomed quest? Double check.

He's not going to be able to handle it if someone else dies.

…

They've been on the quest for months and he's finally allowing some _hope_. A tiny little spark, but it's something. Annabeth kisses him to sleep every night and his memories are starting to randomly pop up in his brain. Grover bleats at him during these episodes, but he doesn't mind at all because he remembers it. He remembers it all.

It feels like he's flying.

Sometimes, though, the dreams (nightmares) come back and the shadows cross his face and he doesn't _want _them. Oblivion is better than the cold reality. Oblivion is better than the memories of a cold winter night when he was twelve and the windows all closed to the world that isn't listening for his screams.

But then Jason grins and Piper dances and Reyna smirks and Leo snorts and Annabeth turns her head towards the sun and laughs.

He's flying again.

...

Gaia's fortress looks unbeatable - the sturdy, tightly packed mud wall harder than stone, thousands of monsters marching in time to the beating of his heart. There's seven of them; holed up in a tree on a windless day in March. He can see the gears spinning in Annabeth's head as she formulates a plan; eyebrows drawn together, lips set in a thin line. Putting on a brave face, he aims to ignore the tree branch poking up his armpit. What a nice way to go.

Before he knows it they've catapulted to the top of the roof, broken in through the ventilation pipe (even monsters have to breath), and lowered four out of seven demigods down. Two more are lowered and then it's him.

He doesn't pay attention to the sense of dread, the sense that this will be the last time he sees the sky stretching above him. He doesn't pause for a moment to think of the meaning of life, no, because they sure can't spare that time. He doesn't do any of those things - he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and jumps.

...

He battles monsters and slays drakons and out-smarts spirits all with the help of his friends. Then they've finally made it to the doors of the main room and there's this rush - because they made it, and gods, all their limbs are still intact. It's a miracle, and so he allows one tiny grin.

They creep forward, blatantly winging it and not the least bit ashamed to say so. His heart beats faster and they're getting closer and closer...

The doors swing open and they're met with nothing.

No cavalry of monsters charging them, no evil queen formed entirely from the earth. It's something they didn't expect - that one lone variable cut out from the rest. Nothing.

You can hear a pin drop. Their footsteps echo on the cold marble floor. Silence.

Then his vision seems to sharpen, zero in on the tiny thing that would set everything in motion. A couple feet away from the group, a thin, almost invisible trip-wire stretches across the length of the room, taunting him. He can't even cry out. They cross it and the world goes to hell.

…

Demons, monsters, serpents, vampires - they all pour from the four doors on each side. In seconds they're completely surrounded. Everyone seems to hold their breath.

Delicately, oh_so_gently, he takes his ballpoint pen from his pocket, moving in slow-mo. At snail's speed, he slowly brings the tip of the pen to his hand. Everything's quiet.

In a flash, he's whipped the cap off and the pen in his hand kicks, transforming into an elegant sword. It slashes through the first three rows of monsters before they can blink. Whirling, twisting, jumping, ducking - he slices and smashes and stabs; the air becoming thick with yellow and gold wet-sand-consistency monster dust.

The monsters realize he's their biggest threat ten minutes and hundreds of monsters into it. Sadly, they're not too late; rushing him from all angles. The side of his head is caught by a mace, his shoulder slashed by a stray claw and his stomach whipped by a barbed tail. He's tiring, but all he can think about is Annabeth. Where is she?

Reyna cries out, a huge gash in her leg. A horrible lion-headed thing stands above her, paw raised for the kill. He jumps and stabs down, spraying the horrible yellow sludge all over her. She's never looked so thankful. And she's finally looking at his _eyes._(No other parts included.)

The battle goes on for a full hour, Piper charm-speaking the monsters to their death, her famous blade slashing; Leo shooting fire, pulling every item imaginable form that tool belt of his; Frank shifting into mighty animals, scratching and clawing and biting; Reyna charging, fearless; Jason, his features set into pure determination; and Annabeth, blonde hair swinging, aiming to kill with the cursed dagger that changed everything.

They're at a stalemate and he knows something big has to happen to tip the scales.

The problem is, he doesn't know what.

…

More hours pass and they're still fighting and he can tell his team is getting tired. The leader has run out of ways to lead and the despair blankets the room so thick no one dares to breathe.

He does something he hasn't done for a while. In the midst of the monster-congested room, swinging and jabbing, he stops for point two seconds and _prays_.

…

She stands with the pride of the mother of literal gods, the strength of an entire planet, and the malice fit only for the woman attempting what even Kronos failed to do.

Gaia has arrived. And she's not going down without a fight.

He positions Riptide and charges.

...

He can't believe it. He can't gods fucking believe it. Gaia's ashes are scattered all over the floor, and one by one, they flicker and disappear. When he had told Gaia to go to Tartarus she had actually listened. Ha. That allows a smile.

...

They're back at Camp Jupiter in record time (or Poseidon's blessing) and are met with upturned, _happy _faces. Because they made it back. No blue cake to be found, and they made it back.

Before he knows it everyone's cheering and lifting _him _up when it really should be all of them, being held high. So he loops an arm around Annabeth's waist and tugs her up while she laughs hysterically. He kisses her on the nose, letting everyone see. Her smile's so wide and it's so contagious, soon enough he's smiling like the utter idiot he is. And he doesn't mind it one bit.

…

He's walking Annabeth back to the Minerva cabin when he sees the shadow. The shadow of a monster, distinctive and unwaveringly familiar. His stomach sinks. He grabs her arm and they make a run for, screaming warnings at the top of their lungs.

"Emergency! Weapons out, form the cavalries! We've been invaded!"

…

The sirens blare and the whistles sound and screams echo throughout the night. Her expression is one of pure fear, and his stomach fills with acid. He asks her what's wrong. She says she can't lose him.

He tells her that isn't the least of their problems right now. He tells her they fucking need to get this camp into some order _right now_. She flinches at his scream and he immediately feels horrible. He knows old him would've apologize, but he just barks at some younger kids who aren't moving fast enough. She looks at him like he's an entirely different person.

"You've changed."

...

The camp is a frenzy of raised voices and ominous shadows. Campers - both Roman and Greek - are assembled, half their armor on, most still in their PJs. Jason steps up, telling everyone what's going on. The monsters left over from Gaia's army are bitter - they've launched an attack on Camp Jupiter and are aiming to kill as many demigods as possible. Jason's mouth is set in a thin line, his face haggard; but he still looks at him with a fire in his eyes. And nods.

Apparently, he's supposed to give some floor shaking, fist pounding speech. Apparently. He informs everyone not to get themselves killed, and smiles. It's the best offering he has. The kids all cheer, faces looking so incredibly young. His heart does a flip.

…

Fighting, fighting again. He'll never get used to it and he probably will never stop. The monsters hiss. But they're winning. They're winning.

The last of the monsters are slayed and everyone listened to him - there were no deaths. The worse injury was a broken arm, and he's feeling pretty good about the whole ordeal.

The camp's a little roughed up, but nothing they can't survive. Everyone congratulates him; pats on the back and friendly handshakes. Annabeth smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes and he can tell something's bothering her. He wonders if he really did change all that much.

He hugs her anyway, and there's so much love between them he swears he's going to change _back _and tells her so. Her eyes shine, this time.

And everything's going back to normal and there's nothing to be worried about and no one's burning anyone's shroud. But then he sees another gods-damn shadow and before he can do anything the monster's leaping towards the one person he lives his life for. The world stops. (At least, his does.)

…

He can't really excuse it. It's his fault, of course, and he's not afraid to admit the horrendous fact. The monster jumps at Annabeth's right side, the side he's supposed to be guarding. The side he will guard to his very last breath.

So naturally, of course, he jumps.

…

A piercing scream, a sharp pain, a grunt, and it's over.

As soon as he opens his eyes he looks for her.

She's standing a mere five feet away from when he pushed her, and he's proud to say, relatively unharmed, if you count her disheveled hair. He doesn't. The thing that bothers him is the way she's looking at him, her eyes filled with tears.

And then she's on her knees by his side, those tears spilling over. Her hands flutter over his stomach, shaking, but he doesn't bother to look at what's she's so concerned about because he wants to know what's the matter with _her_.

Only when she brushes his hair out of his face does he get it. He looks down slowly and a wave of nausea rolls over him. Gross. His stomach and chest are covered in blood, oozing and bleeding on the grass Katie Gardiner had just watered. He's thinking about how pissed she's going to be and how maybe he could blame it on the Stolls when the pain hits him.

A moan escapes his lips before he can stop it, and Annabeth just about has a heart attack. The tears leak down and hit his nose with a splash. He closes his eyes, reveling at having her near him, but imagine the reaction _that _got. He's ordered to please, please keep his eyes open and to oh gods, please stay with her. He'd never _leave _her so he has no idea where that ridiculous idea came from.

The world seems fuzzy and oddly detached, like he's not really there. He doesn't like it because he wants to feel Annabeth by his side, feel her hand running through his hair and hear her murmuring to him. Seriously, if that's all he has left he'd be screwed not to take it.

He closes his eyes and barely hears her protests.

…

The Roman Camp is darker than anything he's ever seen. Especially when its night and the little moon there is is blocked by the mountainous willow tree stretching its branches above them.

A couple of Apollo's healers stop by but they say they can't do anything, whatever that means. It makes Annabeth cry, so he decides he doesn't like them. He still feels like he's floating. A lot of people come to sit with him and Annabeth and they talk a lot, but after a while he can tell she just wants to be alone with him. He doesn't really argue. The pain in his stomach worsens but he pretends it's not there. There's that cliché light at the end of the tunnel and it's pissing him off.

...

After a while they move him to the infirmary; which causes a whole lot of unneeded stress and pain, if you ask him. Everyone's just sitting around and _crying _and he's not even gone yet, for gods' sake. He really appreciates it, but in the long run he's not as important as everyone writes him off to be. He'd rather just lay there forever, Annabeth's hands wrapped around the material of his shirt.

He knows he's fading, but it doesn't faze him. He remembers every detail of his life and he knows he saved a few lives during it. That's honestly enough. Except...

He tells her his secrets. How before the Titan War he was absolutely terrified. How he had loved her since they danced the night away on Mount Olympus, at the top of the world. (Or at least, that's when he realized it, deep inside.) How much fun he had had cleaning out his cabin that one summer afternoon, and how cute he thinks she looks in his sweatshirts. How damaged he was after Gabe - and how she was the reason he recovered so fast.

How he treasures every second with her and how horrible he feels every day that he had lived for months forgetting her. How her kisses make him smile and how her smart-talk makes his head spin. How he was going to take her to the Parthenon before he disappeared and where the plane tickets are hidden. How he loves her more than anything in the world and how he wishes he could stay with her forever. How she better not give up her dreams after he's gone; because he'll definitely be watching her from the Underworld and will be majorly disappointed if she stops her life just because his did. How he slept with Reyna. And how much he regrets that.

She's quiet. The clock on the far wall ticks; reminding him how little time he has left. He wishes he had a do-over. He can't go in this earth-shattering silence.

Then she looks at him, almost hesitantly, and he's swept with this overwhelming sense of... shyness. Like they're fifteen again and mad at the world and six inches is six inches too close. She leans down, eyes closing slowly, and their lips meet again.

She kisses him, lips soft and careful and afraid. It's thrilling - like their first hurried, terrified kiss; but familiar at the same time - so many memories of quiet nights and whispered voice to be something entirely new. His eyes flit closed, reveling in the feel of her lips against his and her tears wet on his cheeks. He closes his eyes and _is_.

It's probably the best possible way to die.

…

He watches his funeral from beside a willow tree, silently thanking Hades for allowing him this one day. Both camps are there - now entirely one. He sees the tears and hopes that they're temporary. There are new heroes to be born, new quests to fulfill, new happy endings to be completed. He hopes everyone gets a chance at theirs.

His mom is there, standing strong as always; and he knows nothing will waver the will of Sally Jackson. His friends each stand and say something as he smiles at the memories he won't ever forget again. His shroud is burned and the crowd disperses, leaving two lone figures behind.

Annabeth is crying, which he hates, but she had promised him to move on. Gods know children of Athena never break promises. Next to her stands Poseidon, his father, which still feels a little weird. He watches in shock as his dad breaks down next to his grave. Annabeth reaches up and takes his hand. She cracks and joke, probably something about him being a Seaweed Brain, and they both laugh. He knows everything will be just fine.

And with a smile, Percy Jackson simply disappears.

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><p><em>~ Well, all I need is the air I breathe;<em>

_And a place to rest_

_My head ~_

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><p>*Song lyrics go to The Script, '<em>We Cry<em>'; and OneRepublic, '_Say_'

**A/N: Yup. Again, I was totally not aiming for this ending. Sigh, I'm so frazzled lately. ****Reviews will make me smile. :)**

***yawn* Gods, I'm tired...**

**~Twix**


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